


That's What Teammates Are For

by PerfecPaperBluebirds



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anaphylaxis, Avengers Tower, Fever, Fluff, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Science Bros, Sick Bruce Banner, Sick Bucky Barnes, Sick Character, Sick Clint Barton, Sick Loki (Marvel), Sick Steve Rogers, Sick Tony Stark, Sickfic, Sneezing, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29501751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerfecPaperBluebirds/pseuds/PerfecPaperBluebirds
Summary: The original 6 Avengers (plus Bucky and Loki) are living in Avengers tower as one big happy family. Part of being a family is taking care of your loved ones when they're under the weather. In other words: Everyone gets whumped, and everyone gets to be caretaker. Lots of platonic fluff ahead!
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Clint Barton & Loki, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Loki, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov & Thor, Tony Stark & Thor
Comments: 16
Kudos: 35





	1. August (Sick Steve Rogers)

Captain America had to resist the urge to scowl out the window at the pollen and dust floating on the breeze, visible in the beautiful morning sun. He may be (at least nearly) immune to normal illnesses, but his lifelong seasonal allergies had proved their tenacity even through the effects of the serum. As an added bonus, he was told there were great remedies for allergies in this decade, but his heightened metabolism made them useless. At best they just made his mind fuzzy without lessening the symptoms.

Just the thought of opening the window made his nose start to twitch and his eyes water. The sneeze was upon him before he had time to try to stifle it.

“huh-ISSHH’YOOO! httt-KNNT-chhuuh! HEEHHTT-CHOOOOO!” With a disgusted groan, he wiped the slime from his upper lip. His throat had already been scratchy, and now it was scraped raw. He sighed as he began to pull on some comfortable clothes, rubbing his sore nose again. He had plans to spend some time with Bucky today, but he almost felt like cancelling. Between the itchy eyes, stuffy nose, scratchy throat, and the feeling that his head was stuffed with cotton, he was miserable. 

Bucky was recovering more all the time from his “service” with Hydra, coming out of his shell even around the rest of the Avengers. Steve knew how much their one-on-one time meant to Bucky, though. It reminded them both of the old days, before serums and Hydra, and he didn’t want to disappoint him over something as minor as hayfever. Of course, Bucky would pretend it was no big deal if he did cancel, but Steve would know, and it would eat at him for weeks. So, he would go.

Steve shuffled to the kitchen for breakfast, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He rather hoped no one else would be there so he wouldn’t have to pretend he was fine. They all knew about his allergies, but the more human Avengers sometimes found it funny to see “Mr. Perfect” beset by normal human issues, so he mentioned it as little as possible on principle. Today especially, he wasn’t in the mood for any teasing.

It wasn’t his lucky day though, as Clint and Tony were both in the main living space. Clint was sprawled out on the couch, and Tony was drinking coffee in the kitchen. They sat in silence, evidently ignoring each other. Both acknowledged him as he walked in though, and he tried to give his normal, cheerful morning greeting. Hawkeye, true to his name, looked at him more closely.

“You look like you got dragged through the wrong side of the bed this morning. You okay, Cap?”

“ ‘M fine. Just ragweed season is all.” He tried to be nonchalant, but Clint’s expression told him he had not succeeded.

“Call a press conference, America’s supersoldier taken down by plants,” Tony chimed in snidely. 

Steve chose not to reply as he pushed past Tony to rummage around for his oatmeal ingredients. Tony was in one of his moods though, and wouldn’t let it go.

“Oo, Capsicle is a little icy this morning. Wouldn’t the women of the world love to know their red, white, ‘n blue sweetheart gets just as crabby as the rest of us when he’s got the sniffles.” 

Steve felt himself redden, stifling a sneeze.

“Lay off, Stark. Just let him be,” called Clint from the couch.

“I don’t listen to people who take other people’s last bag of chips, so keep your suggestions to yourself, Katniss.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “I told you I’d get you more when the store opens. Stop whining.”

Bruce shuffled in just then, dark circles under his eyes, and headed straight for the coffee, barely looking at anyone.

“Long night, Banner?” asked Steve, eager to change the subject as he stirred his oatmeal. To his chagrin, his voice cracked in the middle of the short phrase. He reddened again as everyone looked at him, and he dabbed his dripping nose awkwardly.

“Mmph. You sound like I feel. I’ve been stuck on this project I’m working on, and last night I somehow erased some of the data I need. It’ll take me forever to recover it. I was up all night trying. So now I’ve got a splitting headache.”

“Lady Jane tells me to drink more water when I complain of head pains! Have you been drinking your fluids, Dr. Banner?” a familiar booming voice interrupted. Everyone jumped, and Bruce flinched, wincing as everyone’s favorite demigod appeared, bright and cheerful.

“Thor! Inside voice, for the last time!” yelled Tony, making Bruce wince again.

“My apologies, friend Tony,” said the God of Thunder, in a slightly lower tone, striding to the cupboard to find his Poptarts. “It is difficult for me to remember the rules of our home on such a beautiful morning. Did you know sound carries differently here than on Asgard? My lady Jane has been explaining such sciences to me. She reminds me that the way I speak is often startling to Midgardians, and is helping me overcome this. So I apologize for startling you all!” His voice had already returned to nearly his normal volume, and Bruce put more distance between them, covering an ear as he sipped his coffee, jaw clenched.

Natasha slipped in just then, ignoring them all, including her partner. A scowl shaded her features as she elbowed her way to the fridge for her morning juice.

“Good morning to you too, princess,” said Tony loudly. “So glad to see you so bright and cheery today!”

“Shut it, Stark,” she snapped, turning on her heel and striding to the table with her juice. Clint tossed her the toast he had saved for her. She flopped down in the chair next to Steve, who had just tucked into his oatmeal. He gave her a half-hearted smile, which she ignored, sticking her nose into the book she had with her, which was just as well, since he suddenly had to sneeze several times in rapid succession.

“Hnnnxx’CHUUH! Ehhcckgg’SHEEWW! HuuhhptCHHHUUsshh!” He tried to stifle them into his arm, but they resounded loudly in the crowded space. Once again, everyone was staring at him, and this time his nose was actively dripping. He kept his eyes lowered as he hastily wiped his upper lip.

“Those sounded painful,” said Bruce sympathetically.

“That’s disgusting, Rogers. Keep that to yourself,” grumped Natasha, scooting her chair away from him. “And stop fidgeting, you’re driving me crazy.”

Steve quickly dropped his hand to his lap from where it had been on the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t realize… I just have a bad ache in my neck all of a sudden. I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”

“Well, not that it isn’t fun being around so many happy, healthy people, but it’s getting crowded in here. I’ll be in my lab if the world needs saving.” Tony turned to Clint. “Two bags of crunchy, cheesy deliciousness better be hand delivered by 10:30, and a fifth of the good stuff for interest. Or I will hunt you down and deactivate your special arrows.”

Clint snarled in reply, pegging Tony in the back of the head with a well-thrown orange just before he disappeared. Tony shouted in surprise and let out a stream of curses, making poor Bruce flinch again.

“Ho ho! Excellent throw, Master Hawk!” roared Thor approvingly, his mouth full of Poptart.

“Thor, no yelling!” spat Tony.

“Jesus Tony, don’t take his head off,” snapped Clint. Bruce threw up his hands with a sigh of exasperation and made for the elevator. “Just because you’re pissy doesn’t mean you get to take it out on him,” Clint continued, ignoring him.

Just as Tony opened his mouth to reply, JARVIS politely chimed in, “Sergeant Barnes has arrived for Captain Rogers.” Bucky strode in slowly, his face expressionless as he surveyed them all, each and every one wearing some sort of scowl or grimace, aside from Thor. A few of them nodded coldly to the 2nd super-soldier. Steve stood quickly.

“Hey, Buck.” he said, sniffling while trying to sound cheerful. “Let me rinse this bowl out and we can get out of here.”

Bucky nodded, saying nothing as his friend hurriedly cleared up and made ready to leave. The room had fallen into icy silence. Steve almost thought he preferred the bickering.

They hurried out the door, barely saying good-bye, and the only one who returned the salutation was the irrepressible demigod. Without speaking, the two men from another century followed their normal routine for their days together: they took a long, leisurely walk to the movie theater, getting snacks and drinks along the way. They didn’t talk much as a rule, unless there was something Bucky wanted to discuss. Today they said even less than usual. Steve could tell Bucky was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s on--” his voice was raspy and hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What’s on your mind, Buck?”

“Are you okay, Steve? You’re not looking or sounding so hot.”

“Just the old hayfever. Nothing to worry about, really. Once it rains and some of this pollen clears, it’ll ease up.”

“Okay… But also your team… something seemed off with you guys today.”

“Yeah… I think everyone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Steve said ruefully. “Tempers were a little short. I’m glad to get out of the tower for a while, for all our sakes.” He realized he was rubbing his neck again. The ache was getting worse. He dropped his hand, trying to ignore it. Bucky made no reply, and they continued in companionable silence to the cinema. When they got there, they bought tickets for whatever show was playing next, as was their custom. They made their way to their assigned theater and found seats in the middle-back just in time for the show to begin. 

As the movie played, another tickle grew in Steve’s sinuses. He quickly brought his arm up to stifle it. “Hckxt! HMMkktch!” He removed his arm gingerly with a soft, “ugh” and a groan as he wiped his nose.

“Bless you. You ok?” Buckey murmured.

Steve nodded, pretending to watch the show as he rubbed his neck again. However, he realized he was suddenly feeling very odd. It wasn’t the allergies, though that certainly wasn’t helping. The ache in his neck was radiating into his head, and it felt like a tight helmet was closing over his skull. His breath caught in his throat as he realized what was happening: a migraine. In the days before the serum, his hayfever, when it was really bad, would sometimes trigger these explosive headaches, which laid him up for days. He hadn’t had one in, well, over 70 years. Maybe even 75, he thought ruefully. But this pain was all too familiar. Out of nowhere, the light from the movie screen seemed far too bright in the dark theater, shooting daggers into his brain. He suppressed a groan, closing his eyes. Suddenly, all he wanted was his cool, quiet room in the tower, and a cold cloth over his eyes. He curled into himself, squeezing his eyes shut, willing his head to stop throbbing, and willing the movie to end.

He thought he must’ve blacked out for a bit, or else fallen into a strange sleep, because the next thing he knew, Bucky was shaking his shoulder as the people around them got up to leave. All the lights were on now, and as the brightness hit his eyes, a wave of hot, white pain rolled through his skull with two dagger-points directly in his eyeballs. This time a deep groan escaped.

“Woah, Rogers, are you okay? Talk to me, soldier!”

“My head,” he croaked. “Migraine. I can’t…”

“Aw, shit,” Bucky mumbled. He remembered Steve’s migraines, and all the days spent in the coldest, darkest room they could find, while Steve either writhed in agony, or lay deathly still. How he had hoped those were a thing of the past. “Alright soldier, on your feet. We’ll get you on a bus and go straight to my place so you can lie down.”

“No… the tower… my room…” Steve mumbled, unable to grasp on a complete thought.

“My place is cooler and quieter,” Bucky said firmly. Steve couldn’t think how to answer, so he let himself be led by Bucky’s firm hand around his bicep, using all of his willpower to simply stay upright and move his legs.

Once they made it onto the bus, Steve leaned all the way forward, putting his head between his knees. The world wouldn’t stop spinning, and it was making him more nauseous every moment. Bucky gently rested a hand on his back, trying to lend him what strength he could.

“We’re nearly there, Cap. Hang in there,” he murmured.

Once they arrived at Bucky’s out-of-the-way apartment building, Bucky half-carried him up to the flat. Every movement, every sound, every smell was agony on Steve’s head, which felt as if it was splitting in 2. His stomach rolled dangerously, and he groaned again. Bucky powered them up the stairs as fast as he was able, and they only just made it inside before Steve charged into the bathroom and painfully lost everything he’d eaten the past few days. 

Steve was in the bathroom for quite a while. Bucky refrained from hanging out by the door and tried to ignore the miserable retching sounds, knowing Steve hated unnecessary hovering. Instead, the Winter Soldier changed the sheets on his bed and prepared the room for his partner in need by dimming the lights, closing the blinds, and setting the thermostat to a cooler temperature. Steve was still in the bathroom when all this was completed.

“Are you done puking?” Bucky called softly.

“I think so,” came the weak reply.

“Can you drink some water? At least rinse your mouth out.”

“I’ll try,” Steve said, weaker still.

“Come out when you’re ready. I’ll get a cloth for your eyes and you can lie down.”

The bathroom door opened a few moments later. Bucky heard him shuffling toward the couch, so he re-emerged from the kitchen and gently propelled him toward the bedroom instead. Steve weakly protested, but Bucky ignored him, helping him onto the big bed, and placing a cold, damp cloth over his eyes immediately to keep him from trying to get up. The room was almost pitch dark and notably cooler already. Steve’s slurred protests slowed, then stopped.

“Do you want to try some medicine? See if it helps?”

“You know most medicine doesn’t work on us.” Steve’s speech was slow, and his voice wavered with the effort of expressing coherent thought.

“I know. But it can’t hurt, right? I’ve found a few that work.”

“Guess it’s worth a try. Can’t get any worse.”

Bucky quickly brought him a dose of Excedrin. Steve swallowed them dry, but his partner pressed a straw between his lips and Steve drank weakly before turning away, falling very still. Bucky turned to leave, wanting to give Steve as much peace and quiet as possible.

“Would you stay with me for a bit, Buck? I hate being alone when I’m… when I feel like this.” Steve’s voice was barely a murmur now.

Bucky smiled, though he knew Steve couldn’t see it. “Sure, Cap. I’ll stay.”

Bucky found a chair and pulled it up beside the Captain. He grabbed his tablet as well, but he didn’t turn it on right away. He found himself mesmerized, watching as his best friend’s chest rose and fell softly, and listened to the soft wheezing in his chest that his allergies always caused. Steve snuffled softly every now and then, or cleared his throat, but otherwise was perfectly still, and Bucky could tell he was intently trying to control his breathing and shaking. Bucky had never had a migraine, and could not imagine a pain so intense that even the smallest movement led to such misery. His heart ached for Steve the same way it had when he got these 70 years ago. The more things change, the more they stay the same. He watched as Steve’s breathing began to even out, until his slow, deep breaths (and light snoring) indicated he was asleep. Bucky knew he could've left then, and gone out to the living room where he would be more comfortable until Steve woke again. But now that he was here, he didn't want to leave his best friend's side just yet. So, he stayed.

Steve slept for many hours while Bucky worked on his tablet beside him, and it was well into the evening before either of them stirred. Around 8:00, Bucky’s stomach was starting to growl, and he was about to go find something for dinner when he heard a strange sound coming from the living room. He crept out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly on his unconscious friend, and tried to track down the noise. He finally located the source in the jacket Steve had thrown onto the couch in his rush for the bathroom: Cap’s cell phone was ringing urgently, and Tony Stark's picture showed on the screen. Bucky frowned. At best, the team was wondering where their captain was. At worst, there was a call to assemble. He almost ignored it, but he knew enough about Tony Stark to guess that there were any number of tracking devices in this thing, and Captain America going AWOL would probably lead to the rest of the Avengers tracking the phone and eventually storming this apartment.  
The phone stopped ringing just as he’d made up his mind to answer it, and the screen quickly locked. Luckily the password was Steve’s mother’s birthday. He saw Steve had several missed text messages, and even more missed calls. He found one of the texts from Stark and opened a reply:

“Staying the night at Bucky’s tonight. Do not worry,” he texted, then immediately tossed the device aside, not bothering to wait for a reply and heading for the kitchen instead. Bucky had just enough time to scarf down some cold cuts and cheese before he heard his partner begin to stir in the next room and quickly returned to his side, plying him with more water and medicine.

~~~~~

Steve tossed and turned all night, the pain in his head relentless. Bucky was by his side every moment, reminding him to drink water, distracting him with jokes and stories, replacing cool, damp cloths over his eyes whenever one got too warm, encouraging him to eat bites of food. Cap never complained, but the misery written on every inch of his body was evident. Bucky did everything he could, but as  
always, was angry that it wasn’t enough.

As morning broke, Steve fell back into a deep, motionless sleep, curled into a ball in the center of the bed. Bucky heaved a sigh and quietly left the bedroom, willing him to be better when he woke. Knowing how much smell affected Steve when he was like this, he had cold cereal and yogurt for breakfast, rather than toast and eggs. As he quietly chewed, he heard Steve’s phone ringing again. Growling to himself, he retrieved it. Stark again. He ignored it, but as soon as it would stop ringing, it would start again immediately. Bucky watched it do this numerous times before he finally answered.

“Oh, now you condescend to answer. What the hell Rogers? Where are you? What the hell have you been doing for two days? You are so--

“This is Sergeant Barnes. Captain Rogers is here at my apartment and he is very ill. I'm looking after him.”

“Ill? What do you mean ill? He can’t get “ill”! All he has is allergies! What did you do to him, Barnes?”

Bucky’s temper boiled to the surface at Tony’s assumption. “I didn’t do a thing to him! He’s in bed with a migraine, no thanks to all of you, and he’s in so much pain he can hardly move. And I’m dealing with it, just like I’ve done plenty of times before. He's in good hands.”

“Let me talk to him right now!”

“He’s sleeping finally, after being up all night in agony. I’m not about to wake him up.”

There was some scuffling in the background and muffled voices before a new voice came on the line, a woman. Natasha, he remembered.

“Barnes, are you sure he’s okay? Should we send someone over to get him? You’re sure you don’t need assistance?”

“Like I said, I have everything under control. I took care of him for years before any of you were even born, and we don’t need any of you now. Please stop calling.”

He was about to hang up when he heard someone shout, “Make sure he calls us when he wakes up!” With a beep, he ended the call, scowling at the phone as he threw it down. Just then, Steve hurdled past him, rushing to the bathroom, and slammed the door. Hearing the retching recommence, Bucky heaved a sigh and went to remake the bed.

~~~~~

More hours passed with similar goings on in the little flat. When afternoon rolled around, Steve was back in bed, clenching and unclenching his fists in pain as Bucky sponged sweat off of his face and neck.

“Need to call… team. Prob'ly… worried sick,” Steve croaked softly. “Need to get back to... tower.” Bucky’s face twitched.

“I already took care of it. They know you’re staying with me. You’re not going anywhere for a while, soldier. You can barely stand. Besides, they’re the reason you’re like this in the first place.”

“Wha’? No… jus’ a normal migraine. Jus’ like I always get.”

“Yeah, but you hadn’t had any migraines since the serum until now. Until all the problems over in that tower got you so worked up that it hit you. You said yourself that you needed to get out of there. They have no one but themselves to blame. You should never have joined Fury’s team. You should have stayed with me.”

Steve had either stopped listening, or couldn’t think how to reply, because he remained silent, deathly still except for his hands clenching and unclenching.

Soon Steve slept again. By this time Bucky was exhausted, so as soon as he saw Steve was peacefully settled, he crept back out to the living room to sprawl out on the couch and get some shut eye himself. He was out like a light as soon as his eyes closed. Neither moved for the rest of the day, until well after the sun had gone down.

Bucky started awake, though he wasn’t sure what had woken him. Ingrained habits kicked in and he barely breathed, didn’t stir. Someone was in his kitchen, rummaging in his fridge, but he couldn’t see the doorway over the back of the couch. Just as quickly as he had tensed, he relaxed, recognizing the footsteps. Steve. 

He stretched luxuriously as he heard the tap running, and ice clinking in a glass. His partner emerged, carrying a big glass of water and a sandwich. Steve looked exhausted, with deep, dark circles under his eyes and his whole appearance more rumpled and tousled than Bucky had ever seen. Still, Captain America looked cheerful despite all this, and better than he had in days. They shared a tired smile, and Bucky made room on the couch for Steve to sit beside him.

“You look like you’re feeling all right,” said Bucky approvingly.

“Better than yesterday,” Steve agreed. “Still feeling a little like I got hit by a truck. But my headache is gone.” His voice was a croaking whisper at best. “Um, Buck… how many times did I throw up?”

“Well… technically twice. Once yesterday and once today. But they were--extended sessions. You were in there for about an hour today.”

Steve winced. “That tracks with what I recall. But I also have a vague memory of throwing up behind a movie theater, or did I dream that?”

“Well, you did that a few times when you got migraines back in Brooklyn. And this one did start at the theater.”

“Oh, that’s right.” With that, Steve tucked into his sandwich with gusto and drank all of the water in a few gulps. Bucky watched him closely.

“But you are feeling better now?” asked the Winter Soldier. Steve had been known to fake that he was getting better, only to make himself much worse.

“Like night and day. I woke up and it was like the headache was never there. I did finally lose my voice. But I’ll take that over a migraine any time. And it feels like we’re going to get some rain tonight. So overall, I’m just dandy. Thanks to you, Buck. I owe you another one.”

“You know I’ve always got your back. That’s what partners do. You would do the same for me.”

“You know I would.”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and shuffled his feet. “Rogers, what’s stopping us from partnering up again? Just you and me. Forget Fury and his bullshit. Go rogue for the cause of justice. We’d be unstoppable. No teams, no drama. Just old war buddies. We’d take care of each other better than anyone else could. We wouldn’t have to worry about anything or anyone else ever again.”

Once he started, he couldn’t stop, even though he knew he was rambling. Steve just listened, with that deep look in his eyes, and waited for him to finish. A look that was almost sad crossed his features as he replied.

“We can’t think like that, Buck. That’s not the path we’re on anymore. This team… this is where I’m supposed to be right now. It’s not my place to choose to give that up. It can’t be, even if I would want it to. The Avengers need me, and I need them, the same way I need you. My place is to fight beside them right now.”

“But… there’s so much fighting and trouble and anger in that tower. A soldier can’t thrive in that.”

“We all have problems and pasts, Buck, and none of them easy. Sure, we fight. But we always make up, and are all the stronger for it. It’s good to get away from each other from time to time, but that tower is also my home, and I know I miss it like crazy now. I miss my team. I need to be getting back.”

Bucky heaved a deep sigh. “I figured you would say that. But I had to ask. You should call Stark. He’s been calling you incessantly for two days. He’s worried sick about you. They all are. They asked that you call them as soon as you wake up.” 

Steve stood and immediately searched for his phone, legs wobbling a little. Bucky smiled sadly. 

“Hey, Steve… Why don’t you stay one more night? It’s already late, and we never got to have dinner. You promised you had a special recipe we were going to try. And you look like you could use one more good night’s sleep before you go back to Avenging. You can go back to the tower first thing in the morning.”

He could tell Steve was hesitant, but he also could tell Steve was very tired. Finally, the taller man caved.

“Alright Buck, you win. One more night. But I’m taking the couch this time.”


	2. September (Sick Bruce Banner)

It was one of the rare times when the tower was strangely quiet. The assassins were on a secret mission, Thor was visiting Asgard, and Tony was at some technical conference. Steve and Bruce were rattling around like peas in a can, hardly seeing each other as they worked on their own projects and training, eating and sleeping at totally different times. 

Without Tony in the lab, Bruce found himself down there almost constantly. He hated enabling Tony’s poor eating and sleeping habits, and encouraged them both to go to bed at a somewhat reasonable hour, but when the doctor was left to his own devices, he was just as bad as the engineer. He slept in naps and ate ravenously about once a day, but otherwise every brain cell was devoted to his work, the one place he felt most sane.

It had been about 3 days since everyone left. This project was going well, but around noon that 3rd day, Bruce sensed himself flagging. His head was heavy and he couldn't stop yawning. His joints ached and his eyes burned. Still, he wanted to finish this last portion, and it was nearly complete. So he pressed through, knowing the constitution of the Other Guy would pull him through as it always had. He forced himself to focus whenever he felt his concentration drifting, but it was drifting more often and focus was getting harder to grasp. He shivered in the cool lab air, stifling another yawn and removing his glasses to rub his eyes.

“Hey Bruce, there’s something I’ve been meaning to pick your brain about--”

Cap’s voice made him jump about a foot in the air. The doctor hadn't realized he’d been leaning heavily on his desk, eyes closed and head hanging low, and hadn’t heard the lab doors open.

“Woah, all right there Bruce? You’re very pale.”

“Am I? I’m just tired. Been pulling too many hours. I just wanted to finish this up, then I was going to grab some rest.”

“You’re sure nothing is wrong?”

“I’m sure, I'm just--”

Out of nowhere, Bruce was attacked by a harsh coughing fit, and was forced to lean on his desk yet again for support. When it finally subsided, his face was red and he had trouble catching his breath for a moment.

“Must be some dust in here,” he managed, hand to his chest.

Steve's face was creased with concern. “You sound awful. And you look like you’re running a fever.”

“The Other Guy has a great immune system. I never get sick. And I always run hot.”

Steve was at his side in a moment, placing his hand on the doctor’s face. Bruce half-heartedly pulled away, but the gentle super-soldier was persistent.

“Well so do I, and you feel very warm to me.”

“Mm. I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m almost finished here, then I promise I’ll go lie down.”

“How much longer is ‘almost finished?’ ”

“Maybe 3 or 4 hours...”

Steve gave him a concerned, stern look. “I think you should call it a day, doc. The project can wait. And you look done in.” 

Bruce was hit with another coughing spell as he took a breath to reply, sealing his fate. The shorter man’s shoulders were slumped in resignation when he could finally speak. “Whatever you say, Cap.”

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” Steve said, gesturing to the elevator.

“I can manage,” said the doctor, slightly defensively

Cap backed off right away. “Of course you can, I’m sorry. Can I at least bring a glass of water up for you? Or anything else you need?”

Bruce almost declined, but suddenly the walk to his suite felt awfully long, and he didn’t relish a detour to the kitchen. And a glass of water sounded so nice.

“Water please, and thank you. I’d appreciate it.”

Bruce shuffled to the elevator, but he had to stop to cough, leaning on the frame of the elevator door, before he could ascend. Steve stayed close, but Bruce’s body language said he wanted no assistance. The elevator ride was silent, and Steve heard wheezing in Bruce’s chest. The doctor seemed to be rapidly deteriorating, and the captain was very concerned, though he tried not to show it.

Steve got off at the main floor with a little wave, while Bruce ascended to the next level where their suites were, getting off there. The walk to the end of the hall where his room was situated felt like a mile. He couldn’t believe how groggy and lethargic he suddenly was, and how hard it was to catch his breath as he unlocked the door, leaving it open for Steve, and collapsed onto his bed.

“Damn you,” he muttered to the Other Guy, hand to his chest and wheezing, but as usual he received no reply.

Steve entered Bruce's suite a few minutes later to find the doctor asleep. He hadn’t even removed his shoes or glasses. Quietly Steve set down the water, cough syrup, and fever reducer he’d brought on the bedside table. Bruce didn’t stir, so the Captain gently removed his glasses, setting them safely beside the medicine, and knelt to untie his shoes. He softly covered Bruce with a blanket, killing the light and shutting the door before tiptoeing out.

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve asked JARVIS to inform him when the doctor awoke, and when the AI did just that several hours later, Steve went up to look in on him.

Bruce was in rough shape. He was huddled on the bed, stripped down to a tee shirt with blankets piled on top of him, sweat visible on his face from the fever and force of his coughing. 

He weakly tried to sit up upon seeing his captain, but Steve gestured for him to stay still, concern written all over his features.

“It’s bronchitis,” Bruce croaked before Steve could speak. “I got it all the time before. And I usually don’t get sick thanks to the Other Guy, but when I do, it’s worse than it would be otherwise. He suppresses all the symptoms until it’s impossible to do so, then I get very ill, then it’s gone just as quickly. It’s happened a few times before this. Thank you for the medicine, by the way. I just took it.”

“No problem. Is there anything else you need? I hate seeing you suffer like this,” he added as Bruce coughed some more.

“Nothing much to do but wait it out,” he rasped finally.

“Are you hungry? I was about to make some dinner.”

“Not really… but I should eat a little. Whatever you want to make is fine. But please, no soup. I’ve always hated the stuff, especially when I’m sick.”

Steve chuckled. “Fine then. It’s not really a day for soup anyway.” He indicated the beautiful early September day visible through Bruce’s window. “I was thinking macaroni and cheese with lots of bacon. What do you think?”

“Sounds perfect.”

When Steve returned a while later with two bowls of steaming, cheesy goodness, and two cups of tea, he found Bruce shivering and coughing under even more blankets. Banner took the tea mug with a grateful smile, but winced as he swallowed. 

“Mind if I join you in here for dinner? It’s been pretty lonely around the tower the last few days and I’d like the company. And you don't have to worry about me getting sick of course.”

“Fine by me,” Bruce managed.

“Don’t worry about talking either if your throat hurts. JARVIS, queue up Star Wars Episode IV, the one Dr. Banner told me I need to see.” Steve winked at his friend, who smiled weakly as Steve climbed onto the bed beside him, and they settled back to enjoy dinner and a movie.

They made it through all of Episode IV and most of V before Steve finally fell asleep. He awoke some time in the middle of the night, with the show still running in the background, to find Bruce still awake. Something was wrong though, and as Steve woke up more, he could sense that Bruce’s every muscle was tensed and locked. Cap put his hand on the other man’s arm, making him jump as if he’d been shocked.

“Bruce? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No,” said the doctor through clenched teeth. “The Other Guy hates being sick and is trying to get out… he makes symptoms so much worse… and he’s so much harder to get back in… can’t let him out right now…”

A coughing fit ended the explanation. Steve was very alarmed. He quickly stood, needing to do something but not knowing what. Bruce twitched violently, suppressing a cough, and Steve saw a flash of neon green appear on the doctor's clenched forearms. Bruce began muttering. Reciting the places of pi, Steve realized.

The captain racked his brain, thinking of all the times he had been sick--fevers, influenza, migraines, and so much more-- and what people had done to help him feel better. An idea hit him, but he hesitated, unsure how Banner would take it.

"Bruce, when things are like this did you ever… I mean, did anyone ever… knead your muscles, like your back and shoulders? I know there's a name for that, but I can't remember--"

"A massage?" Bruce inserted, teeth clenched.

"Yes! That's just the thing."

"I--I tried it. In--in India. I got malaria while I was there"

"And? How was it?"

"... It helped," he managed, twitching again.

"That settles it then. Roll over, and shirt off, please."

"Bruce attempted some half-protests even as he complied.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, uncertain where to start, never having given a massage before. Bruce groaned softly as the skin all over his back flashed green. 

Hesitantly, Steve grasped his friend's shoulders and began to knead. The muscles were rock-hard and hardly felt like flesh. Going on instinct, he kneaded until the muscles seemed more pliable, then moved on.

Neck, shoulders, arms, upper back, lower back. Steve finished one pass, but Bruce seemed no better. If anything, he was coughing more. Cap returned to the shoulders, and found them as tense as if he'd never touched them. So, he began again.

He didn't know how long he rubbed or how many times he started over. He didn't think much, just let his hands move of their own accord. Bruce was silent the entire time, except for coughs and quiet groans, and hardly reacted to the ministrations. Steve wondered if he was even doing it right, since his efforts seemed to be having no lasting effect. He was about to give up when he began to notice the change that was slowly coming over the sick man. Slowly, slowly Bruce was starting to relax. His breathing steadied, the twitching subsided, and his cough began to ease. Steve pressed on with the massage, not knowing what else to do and hoping he was helping.

Finally there came a time when Steve went to begin another pass, and he found the muscles as loose as he had left them. He hit every muscle one last time, aiming to warm rather than loosen, as Bruce was feverishly shivering now, but was otherwise still. Before Steve had made it to Bruce's lower back though, soft snores from the shorter man indicated that Steve had finally achieved his purpose.

Steve let his hands fall to his sides. They had been numb for some time now. Suddenly he was bone-weary and only wanted his own bed. However, he made one last trip to the kitchen and got another tall glass of water and some more medication and left it in the sickroom for the doctor to find when he awoke. He also made sure the sleeping man was warmly covered before he crept out again. Steve then shuffled to his room in the dark, hardly seeing the bed as he fell into it, wrapping himself in blankets, his arms now throbbing. He was asleep even before he shut his eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Cap slept in the next morning, but not much. He was still tired, but only slightly. Lying in bed, contemplating the evening before, he realized he had probably been awake less than two hours in the night. It had felt like a year.

Steve's arms and hands were more sore than they'd been since the serum, so his showering and dressing was slow and deliberate. He hoped and assumed Bruce was still asleep, if his own illnesses were any comparison, so he decided to get coffee and a quick breakfast before looking in on him.

With this in mind, he almost jumped out of his skin when he entered the kitchen to see Bruce sitting at the counter with his own cup of coffee and a book. With a little chuckle, the doctor waved. Bruce was a bit pale and had vivid circles under his eyes, but otherwise he looked okay.

"Bruce," Steve finally said. "I didn't expect to see you down here this morning."

"I told you, if I get sick now, it's very short-lived." His voice was a bit rough, but strong, Steve noted. Bruce took the captain's hand and placed it against his forehead, and it was quite cool. "According to JARVIS, my fever broke about 5 this morning. I sweated right through my sheets. I woke up a few hours later, showered and changed, and I feel like a new man. I haven't coughed once today."

"Well, speaking only as a friend, I'd like it if you stayed in bed one more day and took it easy." 

"Mm. I won't promise I'll stay in bed all day, but I definitely plan to take it easy. I could sleep another few hours yet and my eyes could use a rest. The project can wait another day."

"Good," said Steve earnestly. "You're still too pale for my liking. But you're definitely looking better, I'll admit."

"Thanks to you, Cap. What you did for me… I appreciate it more than I could tell you. It won't be forgotten." 

Bruce grasped Steve's aching hand for a warm handshake.

"Glad to be of service, soldier. We can't have our doctor under-the-weather. I'm just glad you're back on your feet."


	3. October (Sick Tony Stark)

Even before he opened his eyes, he felt it. A tickle in his throat. The first sign of the most inconvenient part of humanity--sickness. Tony Stark refused to accept it. 

"JARVIS, what's my temperature?"

"Your internal temperature is currently 98.9 degrees, sir," replied the AI politely. 

"Running a fever too." he sighed dramatically, though the effect was wasted as he was alone in the room. "Just what I need."

He slumped around getting ready, then headed downstairs, highly irritated. Of course Pepper was gone already. She was never around in his times of need. However, he was slightly appeased when he met her in the kitchen instead.

"Pepper, I'm getting sick!" He informed her as dramatically as possible.

"Oh, hon! Sick how?" She seemed adequately concerned, so at least that was something. Bruce was getting his morning coffee, and was also listening. Good, the more people who knew his plight, the better.

"I have a sore throat and a fever," he informed her pathetically.

"JARVIS, what's Tony's temperature?"

"Mr. Stark's internal temperature is currently 98.9 degrees, Ms. Potts," JARVIS repeated as politely as ever.

Instead of being sympathetic however, Pepper looked at him again with a smile and a raised eyebrow. 

"Really Tony?" I don't think point three degrees constitutes a fever. I'm sorry you have a sore throat, but it could be allergies. Or the weather changing.

“I thought as my girlfriend you were obligated to be worried and concerned and pamper me whenever I feel the least bit poorly.”

“My dear, if you wanted that, you shouldn’t have asked me to run your international company. I’m due on a flight to China in two hours to go over numbers for the fourth quarter. If you’re still sick when I get back in a few weeks, I’ll pencil in some time to baby you then, okay?”

“So that’s how it is. Fine. I see how much I mean to you.”

Another raised eyebrow smile. “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

He sighed. “That will be all, Ms. Potts.” She pecked him on the cheek and was gone, leaving only the smell of her perfume behind. Tony sighed again and turned to Bruce, who had pretended to ignore the whole exchange.

"Can you believe that? No concern whatsoever. I could be deathly ill, but she only cares about a flight."

Bruce put his hands up. "I'm not involved. No comment." He moved toward the door of the lab.

"I thought you were a doctor."

"Not that kind of doctor." He turned just before the door. "But if you are sick, let me know if there's anything I can do. In a friend capacity only. So, on that note, were you planning to work in the lab today? I have a few projects I'm working on and I'd love to bounce some ideas off of you. Or will you be busy?"

"I'm Iron Man, of course I'm busy."

Somehow, Bruce and Pepper know how to do an eyebrow-raise smile the exact same way. "So you'll be down soon then?"

"Whatever the doctor orders."

~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce and Tony had a very productive day in the lab, however, by the time evening rolled around, Tony had a dripping nose to go along with his scratchy throat. He made sure Bruce was well aware of the development, but declined taking the rest of the day off, as they were making a lot of progress.

“Since it seems my fate is sealed, I’m honestly wondering what will be more satisfying, me dying a slow and painful death on my sickbed while Pepper is overseas, or somehow managing to keep myself alive and be just fine without her. Which sounds best to you if you were me?” Tony remarked to Bruce as the latter was packing up for the evening.

“Keep me out of this. But from a purely objective standpoint, any option that favors being alive versus the alternative is the one I would be more likely to choose. Just a thought.”

“Point, taken, doctor.”

“Good night, Tony. I hope you feel better in the morning.”

“I appreciate the sentiment. At least someone cares.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Sadly, this was not the case. Not that Tony expected anything else. His symptoms developed into a full-blown cold overnight, complete with green mucus, a lovely cough, and red, watery eyes. His fever had also increased to a comfortable 99.1 degrees. 

Any help for his plight was not to be found in Avengers tower. Clint and Natasha told him repeatedly to stay away from them and keep his germs to himself. Thor was more confused by the term “cold” than about the actual situation, and it was more effort than it was worth to go over that particular colloquialism. Not that he expected a space giant wearing a cape to be of much assistance. Steve was sympathetic and gave the best advice for curing colds the 1940’s had to offer. However, on principle, Tony went out of his way to avoid people who were incapable of being ill while he himself was under the weather, which effectively eliminated over half of his comrades, and the other half avoided him like… well the plague. Which, he admitted, he was. It didn’t hurt his dignity any less, however. 

Bruce was the only one whom he would tolerate who would also allow him near them. So, they spent another day in the lab. Bruce tactfully ignored the sniffling and hacking without so much as a hand-washing reminder, and seemed unbothered by it. Tony threw himself into the work and tried to forget about his body, and for a while, it worked.

However, Tony felt himself flagging much earlier than the day before. The screens began to hurt his eyes and it got hard to concentrate. He pretended to continue working until dinner time, then told Bruce he had other things he needed to take care of and would not be returning after he ate. Bruce said he understood.

Dinner made him even more miserable, however. It was nacho bar night, but he couldn’t even finish a plate. What little he could taste didn’t appeal to him at all, and he found he was not at all hungry. Nobody seemed to notice when he dumped out half of his chips, for which he was grateful.

It didn’t help that Clint and Thor were watching something in the next room at an obnoxiously loud level, in Tony’s opinion. The noise was making his ears ring. He stalked past them on the way to his room.

“What possible reason could you have for the volume to be up so high? Would you turn that down? Some of us have a headache here,” he snapped.

“Why, are you planning on watching with us?” Clint asked, not even turning around.

“Do I ever?”

“Then why would I turn it down?” Clint’s eyes never moved from the screen. Tony made a disgusted noise in his throat and continued on his way, rubbing his eyes. Just being near the big screen made his eyeballs feel like they were being stabbed.

He went to his room and tried to lie down, not knowing what else might help, but he just tossed and turned or tinkered with little things around the room for hours. His head was throbbing and he couldn’t get comfortable. He didn’t like this room when Pepper was gone, and it felt especially cold and quiet tonight. Well after midnight, after checking with JARVIS that the coast was clear, he crept back through the tower and down to the workshop. 

Down here, with the quiet whirring and clicking of the machines and the soft hums and beeps of computers, he felt the most sane. He didn’t even turn on anything, he just puttered around, rearranging and reorganizing things, including Bruce’s desk. This was not the first time he had done so, nor would it be the last. The long-suffering doctor put up with Tony’s constant rearranging manfully and always had, not commenting, just simply moving things back to where he liked them every time.

After a while, Tony found himself on the lab couch, tinkering with pieces of his suits, always perfecting and streamlining. Doing this eventually helped his anxiety subside enough for him to want to try and sleep, but he refused to go back upstairs. So, he pulled a ratty blanket out of its hiding place and curled up on the hard, lumpy couch, which in some ways he considered to be his bed more than the bed upstairs. Pulling the blanket over his head, he was asleep almost instantly.

~~~~~~~~~~

He knew it was going to be a miserable day even before he opened his eyes. Everything hurt, and it wasn’t from sleeping on the couch. This was worse than the worst hangover. Sitting up made him cough. Stretching was interrupted by sneezing. He couldn’t open his eyes all the way. The temperate air in the lower levels sent him into shivers. His ears were positively throbbing, and there wasn't any head position he could find that helped. He didn’t bother to ask JARVIS what his temperature was. Nobody would care anyway, and no one seemed to believe he was really sick. 

He slumped through the mercifully empty common rooms to his bathroom for a shower, which helped a little. He knew he should eat, so he crept back to the kitchen and toasted himself a bagel. This he took back downstairs to his couch, where Bruce, if he was at his desk, couldn’t see him. He wanted nothing to do with other people right now, not even his lab partner. 

He took one bite of the warm bagel, but could barely swallow it. It felt like glue in his mouth and irritated his poor throat worse than ever. He forced himself to eat half, which sat like lead in his stomach, and the rest went untouched into the garbage.

He couldn’t eat, didn't want to sleep. He took some medication, trying to lessen at least some of the symptoms, then went and hid in his garage. His brain was foggy and his head was heavy, and he knew he could not accomplish any real work in this state, so he tried to amuse himself by taking apart engines, oiling them down and polishing them to shine, then putting them back together. Even this had lost its usual charm, however. He just wanted Pepper to be here to kiss him on the forehead and make him tea and tell him what to do to feel better.

The morning passed in a haze of aches and mucus. Eventually lunch time rolled around, and JARVIS relayed a message from Cap that he had bought burgers and fries for everyone. Tony again made JARVIS inform him when the kitchen was empty before going to grab his share and bringing it back down to his couch. He tried to get excited about the warm, salty fries, but even his favorite treat didn't spark any appetite. 

He tossed a few fries in his mouth and tried to chew and swallow, but they were like sawdust in his mouth and almost made him gag. He swallowed, and the bite seemed to scrape every inch of his throat on the way down. The lovely, greasy burger was more of the same. In fact, it made him nauseous, so he stopped with barely 3 bites taken and his stomach rolling.

He wrapped his blanket back around himself and leaned back to rest his head on the back of the seat. A groan escaped, which naturally turned into a cough. He closed his eyes and just tried to breathe. He didn't even notice when he fell into a deep sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tony was not the most predictable lab partner naturally, but it was odd even for Tony to be in the lab overnight (as evidenced by the random things he'd rearranged) and then disappear completely the next day. Bruce expected him to wander in at any moment, but when lunch came and went, and no one had seen or heard from him, Bruce decided to go looking for him.

As usual, he wasn't hard to find, as he was in his usual hideout. There had been plenty of mornings when a highly intoxicated or hungover Tony had needed to be escorted from the couch to his bed, but Bruce had a feeling that wasn't the case this time. Bruce surveyed his companion critically. Had he been feeling better, Tony would have been gratified to know that he struck a very pathetic figure, pale and sickly-looking as anyone could hope, his breathing thick and raspy. 

Bruce clucked his tongue softly, moving to Tony's side. He lightly shook his friend's shoulder; Tony didn't stir. He shook more firmly, and still nothing. Bruce touched the back of his hand to Tony's cheek, but almost didn't have to, as the fever heat radiated so strongly from him. 

"JARVIS, what's Tony's temperature?" he murmured.

"Mr. Stark's internal temperature is currently 103.5 degrees, Dr. Banner," came the reply

Bruce again clucked his tongue. "And what are his other symptoms?"

"Mr. Stark has had a persistent cough, nasal and chest congestion, headache with sensitivity to light and sound, and lack of appetite for several days. This morning he woke with severe joint and muscle aches, nausea when he tries to eat, and both ears appear to be severely inflamed and painful to the touch, in addition to his heightened fever. These symptoms combined would indicate Mr. Stark has a serious case of influenza."

"Oh Tony," sighed Bruce. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I believe Mr. Stark felt no one cared about his illness before and didn't want to trouble his comrades about it any further," injected JARVIS helpfully. Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The AI tended to struggle with rhetorical questions, advanced as it was.

Bruce tried for a bit longer to wake him, but Tony hardly moved. That, and the untouched meal on the table, usually Tony's favorite, worried him more than anything. He asked JARVIS to send for Steve. 

Steve came right away, and the captain was understandably worried. He wanted to take Tony to medical right away. Bruce argued against it, knowing Tony would hate that, dramatic though he was about such things. It was just the flu after all, and Tony was neither elderly nor weak, so was in no real danger. Bruce agreed, if he got any worse, that would be the next step of course, but for now he just asked Steve to carry Tony to his bed. 

The transport happened smoothly. Steve scooped up their teammate, blanket at all, carrying him as if he weighed nothing and making sounds of concern at how hot he was to the touch. 

Moving made the patient start to stir and moan, especially in the elevator. He fought against Steve weakly, not seeming to know what he was doing, until a coughing fit wore him out. Bruce and Steve glanced at each other worriedly as he struggled. 

Arriving at Tony's room, Steve deposited him gently in bed, then proceeded to hover around, wanting to be helpful. Meanwhile, Bruce did a preliminary physical exam and arranged the sickbed to his liking. The doctor eventually shooed the captain out. 

"I'll sit with him, there's no need for both of us to be here. He'll probably be asleep for awhile. I'll call you if he needs anything, but there's not much we can do right now."

"Should we call Pepper?" Steve said anxiously.

Bruce thought for a moment. "I don't think so. She'll just feel obligated to come home, and there's really no need for that. Tony might disagree if he was awake, but the alleged saviors of the world should be able to handle one genius with the flu."

"Let's hope you're right," Steve sighed, finally leaving.

Unfortunately, Bruce's prediction about Tony sleeping for a while was abruptly shattered when out of nowhere, as soon as Steve left, Tony sat bolt upright and vomited what little was in his stomach over the side of the bed, heaving until he was shaking.

Bruce flew into action over Tony's disoriented apologies, covering the mess with rags. The sick man tried to get up and help clean, but Bruce held him back firmly until he had to stop struggling after another coughing fit. After the coughing had subsided, Bruce held a glass of water to Tony's lips.

"Drink. Slowly. JARVIS says you're very dehydrated, and that definitely didn't help."

" 'm sorry, Bruce," Tony croaked yet again after a long drink.

"Just rest," Bruce said soothingly. "Will you try to swallow some pills to bring your temperature down and help your aches?"

Tony held out his hand obediently and gamely swallowed the pills Bruce handed him. He could hardly stay awake though, and his eyes wouldn't focus. Bruce guided him down onto the pillows and covered him warmly.

"Where's Pepper?" mumbled Tony weakly.

"She's still in China. She won't be back until next week."

Tony groaned faintly, fading toward sleep rapidly. "Don't let Cap see me like this," he managed before the waves of fever pulled him under. Bruce watched him snore for a moment, then heaved a deep sigh, and went to find some cleaning supplies for the mess on the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tony slept at least 20 of the next 24 hours. He woke a few times to use the bathroom and have water and pills poured into him by Bruce, and he threw up twice more, mainly water, but otherwise he slept like the dead, curled up in a ball and buried in all pillows and blankets Bruce would allow. His fever ebbed and flowed depending on medication, but averaged about 101 degrees, per JARVIS' hourly report.

Clint and Natasha made themselves scarce as soon as the news of the flu got around, but Thor and Steve wanted nearly hourly updates, which Bruce provided. They also kept asking to look in on him, but Bruce managed to keep them out of the room. He wasn't sure how to explain that Tony didn't want them (or at least Steve) taking care of him, but they hadn't asked too many questions yet, for which he was grateful.

Around early evening, Bruce was sitting at the desk in Tony's bedroom working on his laptop when he felt someone looking at him. He turned and met Tony's eyes and they surveyed each other in silence for a moment. Tony gingerly sat up, looking groggy but fully awake for the first time in days. Of course, that small amount of movement made him cough, then groan, and he reached for the water by his bed with a shaky hand, taking a long drink.

"Take that medicine too," Bruce encouraged. The patient did as he was told. Bruce moved to Tony's side.

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but how do you feel?"

"Probably about as good as I look," he croaked weekly. "How long have I been out?" 

"All together, probably 30-ish hours."

"That's all? It felt like a week."

"Well, from what I see, you're not out of the woods yet." 

Before Tony knew what was happening, Bruce's hand was against his forehead. He tried to pull away, but the doctor was persistent.

"JARVIS, update please."

"Mr. Stark's internal temperature is currently 101.9 degrees. Oxygen levels are stable. Heart rate and blood pressure are slightly elevated."

"Well then. That was enlightening. I thought you weren't that kind of doctor, Banner."

"I am this week evidently. I even have equipment."

Bruce rummaged in a box near his feet and came up with a stethoscope. Against Tony's protests, he pressed it to his chest and listened intently. Finally he pulled it away.

"I've been worried about your lungs with that hunk of hardware in your chest, so I've been monitoring your breathing, if you'd like to know. They're laboring, but so far I think you're okay. You had us worried for a while; you stopped breathing a handful of times."

"How comforting."

"You're telling me. Now seriously Tony, how are you feeling? Where are your symptoms at? Pain levels?"

"I'm fine and dandy."

"Never lie to your doctor."

"You're not MY doctor. You are A doctor, and not even a medical one."

"You're saying you'd rather I send you to medical and let them deal with you?"

"Fine, fine, point taken. But honestly, I'm okay. Just needed some sleep I guess. Ready to rock and roll, and get back to our projects."

"Not until I clear you, per Cap's orders. And with a fever of 102, you are absolutely not cleared."

"101.9, thank you very much."

"Right. Now what hurts the worst? How's the headache?"

Tony sighed deeply, flopping back onto the pillows. "Headache is okay. Better than it was… however long ago I had that burger. My ears hurt the worst. I didn't know colds affect your ears like this. And my chest hurts from all the coughing."

Bruce noted what he said on a clipboard. "You have the flu, not a cold. And JARVIS says your ears are very inflamed, so you likely have a double ear infection to go along with it. I'll see if I can get some drops for you."

"The flu?! Well what do you know. No wonder I feel more dead than alive. I'll make sure Pepper never hears the end of this. So how long are you going to keep me chained here in bed? What do I have to do to get you to clear me?"

"I've been thinking about that." Bruce pulled a chair to the side of Tony's bed and scrutinized him. "You have to be fever free and vomit free for 24 hours without medication. And you need to be able to finish a full plate of food, and walk to the end of the hall and back without getting winded. You are not allowed near any of your suits until then."

"Easy peasy. I'll kick the fever right now and I'll be in the lab by tomorrow night. Just wait and see. Incidentally, have I been puking a lot?"

"A few times. Mostly water. And never on me, which I very much appreciate."

"Glad I didn't disappoint. I've always had spectacular vomit-aiming skills. It's one of my best qualities."

"On that pleasant note, I'm not sure I'm ready to ask you this next question… but do you feel like you could eat something? You haven't really eaten anything for almost 3 days according to JARVIS."

Tony fell silent for a moment. "I can't think of anything that piques my appetite just now."

"Not even some of Pepper's chicken soup? Steve found some in the freezer from when Nat was sick last winter."

Tony was silent again. "I could try some. Just for you."

"How magnanimous of you. I'll go get a bowl. Steve's had it defrosted for you since yesterday, and it smells great."

"Why didn't you eat it then?"

"Because Steve wants you to have it, and as worried as he is about you, I'm not about to cross him."

He left Tony to mull that over while he fetched the soup. Steve was of course waiting for him, and anxiously asked for an update. Bruce filled him in. 

"Do you think he'd mind a visit?" Steve asked eagerly. "I know I always liked company when I was sick."

Bruce hesitated. "I don't know how Tony would feel about that. At the very least, I'd like to ask him before you go in. Just to be sure. You know how Tony can be."

"Yeah… That makes sense. Okay, well let me know what he says."

"Will do."

Back upstairs, laden with food and a huge bottle of water, Bruce reentered the sickroom to find Tony propped up in bed, rapidly texting.

"I'm documenting all my body metrics from JARVIS to show Pepper when she gets home. I generously decided not to text her in real time, so as not to distract her from her wildly successful business and the fine folks in China, but when she gets home, I'll make sure she's consumed with guilt for abandoning me. And so the plan comes together."

"As hoarse as you are, your throat must be burning. Yet you still manage to monologue. Doesn't it hurt to talk?"

"Like hell. But all for a worthy cause."

"You look a little more awake. The medicine must be kicking in."

"That's the fever on its way out, I told you."

"Let's hope you're right. Now prove it and eat something."

"I'm watching my figure."

"You'll probably feel better if you do."

"Or else I'll vomit spectacularly and feel worse."

"It's Pepper's magic peppery chicken soup, which I know for a fact you love. Just a few sips. Just to give your body a little fuel. That's all I'm asking. If you puke, I take all the blame. But I don't think you will."

"Except you won't be the one puking." Tony sighed and grasped the mug of broth. "Cheers," he croaked, taking a deep sip. Then another. Then another.

He managed to finish half the mug before he pushed it away weakly. "I'm very full now. Happy, Dr Banner?"

"I am. And you will be too."

"If I keep it down."

"Do you feel like you're going to puke?"

"No," Tony admitted. "Maybe later." He sneezed weakly, flopping back onto the pillows.

"Shoot straight with me for a minute, please, Tony." Bruce pulled a chair up beside him. "With 1 being at death's door and 10 being Thor, how sick do you feel overall?" 

"Because you don't have enough data points yet?" Tony asked irritably.

"Because I want to know how best to help you. I don't want to treat you like an invalid if you're just a little feverish, and I don't want to assume you're fine if you're miserable. So I need your honest assessment. 1-10."

Tony groaned. "Right now, I'd say 6."

Bruce scribbled on his clipboard. "Thank you. And there's one other thing I wanted to ask you… Steve wants to come look in on you and keep you company, but he wanted me to ask if it was all right first."

"No. No Rogers, no Thor. No visitors. I'm not a museum attraction. I'll be out of bed by tomorrow. They can survive without seeing my beautiful face for that long."

"Can I ask why?"

"You're all the company I could ever need. I wouldn't want to spoil what we have together, all alone up here."

"I'm serious. What do you want me to tell Steve? He's your friend and he's worried about you."

Tony had a harsh coughing fit before he could reply. "Tell him I'm sick and miserable and I intend to stay miserable as long as I'm sick. I refuse to let him try to infect me with his positivity and good cheer."

Bruce had no reply to that, so he just shrugged. "Suit yourself. How's the soup treating you?"

Tony rubbed his face tiredly. "Always more questions. Fine so far. Anything else I can do for you? A stool sample perhaps?" 

"If you're feeling up to it, be my guest. I think I have a beaker here somewhere." Bruce stood and stretched. "But samples aside, what else can I get for you? A book, hot water bottle, something else to drink?"

"I hate when people are overly accommodating, you know."

"Well I hate being overly accommodating. But since apparently I'm the only human contact you'll allow right now, I feel like we both have no say in this arrangement. Steve would be much better suited for this. I'm just saying."

"You managed to mention Rogers twice in as many minutes. If I was a teenage girl, you'd be sorry." Tony sighed. "The only thing I want right now is some tea. The kind that Pepper makes, the minty one."

"Fine." Bruce turned to comply.

"Hey Bruce?" The doctor turned around. "Don't think I don't realize how lucky I am to have a friend like you. Thanks for… you know. Doing this."

The doctor knew not how to respond. He managed a half smile before making a quick exit.

Steve and Thor were both waiting in the living room for his return, and stood as soon as they saw him.

"How fares our friend Tony against his flying disorder?" asked Thor with concern. Bruce and Steve enjoyed Thor's idea of "the flu" too much to correct him yet.

"He's okay. He's tired. He just wants some tea for now."

"I could bring it up for him if you want a break, Bruce."

"I would be happy to accompany the captain!"

"Guys… like I said, he's really tired. He doesn't want any visitors today."

Both their faces fell.

"Okay then," Steve sighed. "Did he like the soup at least?"

"He did."

Steve smiled a little. "Good. That's good. Then I guess if you need me, I'll be in the training room."

"I'll retire to my quarters," Thor said sadly. "Lady Jane won't visit today due to the flying disorder. I had no idea such things were contagious among Midgardians. She informed me she would not visit here until our friend is fully recovered, as did Master Clint and Lady Natasha. It is indeed a sad week." Thor shuffled sadly to the elevator. 

The silence was heavy as Bruce brewed the tea. "Oh Tony," he sighed. "Why do you have to be such an ass."

When he pushed through the door of the sickroom with two steaming mugs some minutes later, he found Tony lethargically navigating his research servers on the wall screen.

"You should be resting your eyes."

"I got mono my first week of college when I was 15 and I still managed to ace every test and be ahead in all my work. My eyes thrive on not being rested."

"Suit yourself." He handed Tony his tea. "But I don't want to hear you complaining about your headache later."

"I'll complain about anything I want. It's my right as a plague victim." He stifled a cough, drinking deeply. His nose immediately began to drip, and he wiped it absently with his sleeve." 

"You're a mess, you know."

"Yet you still love me. What we have together is just so beautiful."

"Just keep telling yourself that. Should I put something on TV? Since there's nothing in this house you haven't already read."

"I don't watch TV, you know that."

"Then it's going to be a long recovery for you."

"I have my research and designs to work on."

"Which is next to useless without practical application and field tests. But once again, suit yourself." He moved to the door. "It's getting late and if you want to be left to your own devices, I won't argue. I'll be spending tonight in my own room. JARVIS will alert me if you need something."

"You're leaving me unattended, free to come and go as I please?"

"In your condition, I'd be impressed if you made it to the elevator. But since I know you'll still try, JARVIS is under orders to keep your door locked to anyone but me, and that means especially you, until you've had a normal body temperature for 24 hours. For once in your life Tony, do the responsible thing and try to rest. Recovery will only be harder and longer if you don't."

"I've been told that my whole life and never once have I followed that advice."

Bruce shrugged. "G'night, Tony."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

The silence was heavy after the door shut. Tony had a toolbox in nearly every room of the tower for circumstances just like this; the one here was under the bed. He would have the door deactivated and off its hinges in 10 minutes.

He gingerly slid off the bed and lowered himself to a kneeling position on shaky legs. The air outside of his blankets made his feverish skin break out in goosebumps.

He felt around under the bed, pushing things aside until he grabbed what he thought was the toolbox handle. He tugged on it, but it seemed to be caught on something and wouldn't budge. Or else he was too weak to shift it. His fumbling under the bed had also managed to kick up a good deal of dust. It irritated his poor, inflamed nasal passages and kicked his sore throat into high gear. He started coughing, and he coughed and coughed until he was gasping for breath and saw spots. Everything was fuzzy and gray around the edges, and still he couldn't take a full breath, no matter how he gasped for it. Tony realized he was clawing desperately at his chest. With alarm, he wondered if he was going to pass out.

"Shall I alert Dr. Banner?" offered JARVIS. 

Tony tried with his arms to signal the negative, shaking his head vigorously.

"No… no…," he finally managed. "I'll be okay." However, his violent, audible wheezing made even Tony himself doubt that. His chest seared with pain with every breath, especially around the arc reactor. Finally though, he was able to take a few breaths and his breathing came under control. Once he stopped gasping and was getting oxygen again, he was too exhausted to move for a moment. He curled up on the floor and waited for the room to stop spinning. He rested his aching head on the ground and even the carpet felt cool to his face. The idea of going all the way to the elevator and down to the lab suddenly sounded like much more trouble than it was worth. He would never say it out loud, but Banner was right--looking at numbers and figures on a screen made his eyes start throbbing immediately.

He almost did it anyway, just to prove a point, but after he hauled himself to his feet, all he wanted was to lie down again, so for once he listened to his body and fell back into bed, sucking down most of the bottle of water Bruce had left. Then, burying himself in blankets and pillows, he was asleep in moments.

~~~~~~~~~~

He woke with a start from strange fever dreams in the middle of the night, hot and disoriented and barely breathing for being so congested. He propped himself up to relieve the pressure in his chest and immediately finished the rest of the water he had.

He was also strangely hungry, so he promptly finished the rest of his soup from dinner. Even at room temperature, the mild, peppery spice in the soup warmed him and eased his throat. It also made his nose run, but this enabled him to breathe a little better as the sinus pressure eased. He rounded it all out with the last of the mint tea. After he was almost painfully full of liquids, finally his anxiety had eased enough to relax. He remained upright and just let his head sink into the pillows as the gray fuzziness of sleep overtook him again.

~~~~~~~~~~

He woke very slowly the next morning. He became dimly aware of someone shaking his shoulder, and then of someone saying his name, but it took his brain a while to realize this meant he should open his eyes. Even this last step happened slowly. The dim bedroom light stabbed his retinas and he had to blink several times as he acclimated.

"Morning, sunshine," he dimly heard Bruce say. 

"Mmph," was all he managed in reply.

"That good, huh? Looks like you had a rough night. You should've called me."

" 'm fine. There was nothing you could've done." His voice was barely a whisper.

"Your fever is very near 104, I'd say you're decidedly not fine," Bruce sighed. "Water and pills. Now." Bruce deposited medicine and another bottle of water into Tony's shaky hands, and the patient partook without comment.

Bruce fussed around him for a while, tidying up and talking to JARVIS. Meanwhile, Tony fell back into a half-doze immediately. Something cold and hard hit his chest and he bolted awake. Bruce and his damn stethoscope. 

"Do you mind?" Tony snarled wheezily.

"What I mind is that according to JARVIS you were in respiratory distress last night and forbid him from alerting me, which I assume is why your fever spiked so much today."

"You should be thanking me, I didn't want to interrupt your beauty rest. You need as much of that as you can get."

"Very funny. Now shh." Bruce listened for several breaths, then removed the device from his ears with a sigh. "Congrats, your breathing is terrible right now. How's your ears?" 

"Not better."

"I'm having some ear drops sent up from medical today." 

Bruce kept talking but Tony couldn't follow. His head seemed to weigh 100 pounds. He let it fall back onto the pillows and began to doze again. A hand tapped his cheek.

"Tony… Tony, stay with me."

"Mmphlld," was his reply. He could hardly open his eyes. The hand rested on his face again, pleasantly cool.

"God, you're burning up. You need something in your stomach to help those pills work. Think you could eat?"

"Soup?" asked Tony hopefully, cracking one eye open.

"There was just the one bowl of Pepper's soup in the freezer, and you already ate it. Although I'm sure there's cans of other kinds around here somewhere if you want that later. I was thinking toast for now."

Tony growled petulantly but was too lethargic to actually protest. He dozed again as Bruce left him alone to prepare his breakfast.

The two slices of hot, extra buttery toast Bruce returned with should have looked so appetizing, but the smell only turned Tony's stomach. Still, he gamely munched on half a slice, nearly choking on the   
first bite. The bites came slower and slower, and Tony barely finished one half before pushing the plate away, looking green.

The results were quickly forthcoming. Less than 15 minutes later, the poor engineer dashed to the bathroom and lost everything he'd swallowed that morning into the toilet. Bruce sighed as he finished the rest of the toast himself. 

Eventually, Tony shuffled back to bed, looking defeated, avoiding Bruce's eyes. He fell more than climbed into bed, his back to the doctor, wrapping his arms protectively around his stomach.

"I'm not going to recommend drinking much or taking medicine until your stomach settles, don't worry. You can have it your way for now. Just rest. I'll be back to check on you. 

He didn't know if Tony even heard him, as he seemed to already be asleep. He wandered dejectedly to the kitchen where Steve was reading the paper with his morning oatmeal. The captain greeted him warmly.

"How's our Iron Man?"

"Very sick. I hope I never have to see him like this again. He can barely stay awake. He can't breathe. And all he wants to eat is Pepper's soup, and it's all gone. He throws up everything else. It's gonna be a long day for him."

Steve was quick to express his concern, and repeat his offer to help with anything they needed. They then fell silent, each man lost in his own thoughts as they sat at the table together.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tony passed the day in a feverish haze. He was asleep much more than he was awake. He was only aware of Bruce fussing around him when a cool hand touched his face, and he struggled to focus whenever Bruce spoke to him. The vague thought crossed his mind that his lab partner was going above and beyond the call of duty… and he definitely owed that partner a raise. He took pills and drank water when they were offered, but otherwise he dozed and slept on and off. He didn't throw up anymore though, so that at least was one good thing.

He was roused in the early evening by Bruce yanking his blankets off.

"Hey!" he yelped as the cold air shocked him into a coughing fit.

"Sorry buddy, but I wanted to wake you up. I have something for you, and I want you to be fully with us when I give it to you."

"This better be fucking amazing," said Tony hoarsely, but unable to summon any true venom. "I feel like garbage and being cold is not part of my recovery plan."

"I know. I think this will help." Bruce opened the bedroom door to let in a grinning Steve, with Thor close behind. Steve carried a steaming bowl.

The thought crossed Tony's mind that he should be upset at Bruce for going against his explicit wishes, but once again, he was too weak to care. And, though he'd never admit it, it was nice to see someone besides the doctor. Still, Tony summoned some true irritation.

"Couldn't stay away from the show any longer, eh? I knew you boys couldn't live without me."

"Captain Rogers and I have brewed a concoction to assist you with your ailment, Stark!" thundered Thor cheerily. 

Tony's head throbbed at the noise and he winced. Steve made a shushing motion, frowning.

"Thor, you promised you would be quiet. Sorry, Tony. And sorry for barging in, but Bruce said it would be okay. We were told the only thing you can eat right now is Pepper's soup, so I got ahold of her and got the recipe. I didn't tell her you were sick since I didn't want to worry her, but I told her we were under the weather and needed a pick-me-up. So she texted the recipe and I whipped it up."

"And I assisted the captain! I stirred the brew vigorously while he chopped many vegetables," said Thor in a lowered (for him) tone. 

Tony's mouth began to water. "Rogers, you really made soup for me?"

"Yes, sir. I was feeling useless with Bruce up here with you every moment, and I couldn't think of what else to do. I hope you don't mind that I texted Pepper, but I wanted to do something to help. Thor too."

Tony weakly sat up, with Bruce at his elbow. "Nothing else seems to help this damn plague except this soup. Or at least Pepper's did. Let's see if yours is up to snuff."

Steve eagerly offered him the warm bowl and Tony grasped it eagerly, taking a long draught. The other three stared at him as he swallowed. He tried to ignore them.

"Well, I don't think you'll see me doing cartwheels tonight, but that's not bad. Not bad at all. Thank you. Really, this is just what I needed."

They all grinned as Tony continued to eat, feeling stronger by the moment. The three hung around awkwardly, staring at him and each other. Finally, Tony sighed, accepting his fate.

"Well don't be weird about it. Take a seat, guys. Pull up a chair. We may as well make this a party. Bruce, tell JARVIS what movie to put on. You're the only person here with movie knowledge from this century."

Bruce smiled as he gave JARVIS instructions. Thor and Steve found seats, Thor on the bed by Tony, Steve in the lounge chair in the corner. Bruce had his desk chair. Steve made them all tea and popcorn and they settled in for a movie marathon that lasted all night, until one by one, they fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days passed in a similar fashion. Tony turned a corner after that night and got better each day. This was a good thing, since Bruce, despite his protests about the Other Guy's immune system, came down with a cold. Steve and Tony firmly believed he had caught the flu from Tony, and this was how it manifested for the poor doctor. Bruce adamantly denied this. Either way though, Bruce was stuffed up and headachey and cranky for a few days, so with Tony still sick in bed, Thor and Steve took over a large part of sickroom duty.

Tony was much stronger even the next morning, enough that he thought about trying to break out of the bedroom again, but Bruce was just as smart as the engineer, and the doctor made sure Tony was never left alone, now that he had 2 willing assistants.

Thor and Steve were good company, though. They entertained Tony when he wanted to talk, they watched endless movies with him, and they let him sleep without comment when one of his exhausted spells came about. 

For two days, all he ate was Pepper soup and tea, but it was exactly the fuel his body needed. His fever regulated and started to decrease, his cough began to lessen, and his breathing eased. He finally got ear drops, and his raging ear infection subsided as well. Soon he could walk to the bathroom without getting winded. That same day he began to crave food other than soup for the first time in a week, and toast and chicken and fruit tasted good once again. 

One morning, two days before Pepper was due to return, Tony woke well before dawn, and found himself soaked in sweat. However, for the first time in a week, he was neither too hot nor too cold. He took a deep breath, savoring the sensation of painless, unhampered breathing, even as he listened to Bruce's congested snores coming from the easy chair. 

"JARVIS, do I have a fever?" he whispered.

"Your internal temperature is normal, Mr. Stark. The temperature dropped from 100.5 degrees to 98.4 about one hour ago," replied the AI at his lowest volume.

“Good.” Tony hopped out of bed, pulling his robe around him. “Then unlock the door. I need to get out of this room.”

“Dr. Banner and Captain Rogers have not authorized me to do so.”

“I’m fine J. Totally healthy. And my lab is missing me.”

“Dr. Banner gave strict orders--,”

“Yes, days ago. And Dr. Banner is also sick now, so his orders are null. Let me out or I’m taking out your speakers and taking the door off its hinges.”

“If you insist, Mr. Stark.” The door swung open silently. Tony padded down the hall toward the elevator, silently relishing the deep, easy breaths he was taking. Nothing like a brush with the plague to make a person grateful for silly things like breathing.

He punched the elevator button for the bottom floor, but the lift only went one floor down before stopped again. Tony suppressed a groan when the door opened to reveal a started Captain Rogers. The two men silently regarded one another for a moment in the dimly lit hall. 

“What are you doing up so early, sunshine,?” Tony finally asked.

“This is when I always get up for my morning workout. What are you doing up at all? You should be in bed. I can hear you wheezing from here.”

Tony harshly cleared his throat. “I’m not wheezing. I’m just breathing. I'm perfectly healthy and I’m going to my lab. You can’t stop me, Rogers. JARVIS already tried. I can’t stay in that bed one more moment and I can’t sleep with Bruce snoring like a chainsaw. I don’t have a fever and I can breathe just fine. You don’t have a leg to stand on here anymore.”

“Your fever is gone?”

“Yes,” snapped Tony. “ask JARVIS.”

Instead, Steve put his hand to Tony’s face. Tony half-leaped away. Steve raised an eyebrow, and Tony relented with a scowl. Steve clicked his tongue, but his face was still in shadow in the pre-dawn light, so Tony couldn’t make out his expression well.

“Looks like you win this one. You ARE still wheezing, so I wish you would stay in bed another day or two. But I can’t force you. You’ve been almost a model patient this week, so I suppose you’ve earned it.”

“You bet I have. Now will you please move so the elevator can close. It’s going to start alarming any minute.”

Steve did as he was asked, and as the elevator descended, the men said nothing. The lift stopped again at the main level. Steve moved to exit, but turned for a moment.

“Good to have you back, Tony. It wasn’t the same without you.”

Tony almost gave a snarky response. Then he sighed, holding the elevator open briefly. “I owe you one for that soup, Rogers. I’d probably still be at death’s door without that, or else in the hospital. So thank you. I wouldn’t be here right now without you.”

“What are teammates for?” Steve smiled. Tony half-smiled in return. The elevator doors slid shut, shuttling Tony to his happy place, and all was right with the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is honestly my favorite chapter I've written just because I'm really happy with how the dialogue and banter came out! I hope others like it as well.


	4. November (Sick Thor Odinson)

“Stark! Why do we sit inside day in and day out when it’s so glorious outdoors? Come, let us venture out and explore!”

Tony didn’t even look up from his workbench. “I’m not going outside to play with you, Thor. As I am the only Avenger that actually contributes to this team technologically, I have work to do, unlike some people. The only reason we came to Malibu was because I can’t be a genius when I’m freezing, and right now New York is freezing, not to mention crowded with holiday tourists. Besides, I don’t want to know what we’ll find if we explore Florida. You don’t have to stay in. Go jump in the pool I’m paying for that no one uses, or go sit on the patio. Just don’t bother me.”

Thor huffed. “I was advised by our teammates that coming here would be exciting and entertaining. Yet none of them have joined us yet and I have yet to be entertained. I would have been better off spending time in Asgard.”

“Then go back to Asgard. I don’t foresee the world needing to be saved over Thanksgiving. Even aliens aren’t that rude. But the others will be here in a day or two. I’m sure someone will go adventuring with you then.”

Thor huffed again. “Lady Natasha warned me that I dare not miss the great feast and celebration called Thanksgiving, under pain of death, and I was quite looking forward to exploring this new region. I told our party I would greet them here, and I intend to keep that promise. So I suppose I will go find my own amusement until they arrive.”

“Sounds great.” Tony didn’t glance up as Thor stalked away, sighing dramatically.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Staaaaaaaaaark!" The thunderous voice made Tony leap out of his chair, his suit flying to attention. A moment later he had to duck for cover behind the table while his suit pieces assembled themselves on his body as Thor, clinging to the handle of Mjolnir, burst through the patio door, sending shards of glass in every direction. The god of thunder landed with a thump, eyes wild and fearsome.

"Thor! What in the actual hell is wrong with you?! Why in God's name are you destroying my home?!"

"I am in need of urgent medical assistance!" roared the god of Thunder. He shoved his left arm in Tony's face where two huge red welts, a few inches apart, were clearly visible near his elbow. "I was attacked by fiery insects while exploring the path below your garden! There was a swarm of them, but I avoided most with Mjolnir."

Tony pushed him away and flipped his visor back, livid with rage. "You...you destroyed a door and could have killed us both with flying glass, all because you got a bee sting? Absolutely unbelievable. I--"

Tony stopped his tirade before it began upon seeing the hurt and fear in his friend's face. Tony took a deep breath and his suit removed itself, returning to attention in the corner.

"Let me see it again." He examined Thor's swollen elbow closely. "The stingers are still in. Let's get them out. I think I have some tweezers here. JARVIS, any advice for bee stings?"

"Medical advice indicates scraping the barbs out instead of squeezing and pulling yields best results so the sting does not put any more venom in the wound. After the stinger is removed, wash the area with soap and water and apply a cold compress."

"Roger." In a few moments and several muttered curse words, Tony managed to scrape out both stingers. Thor made not a sound through the process, grimacing in pain the whole time, but the air crackled with electricity. Tony tried to ignore this and fetched a wash rag from the bathroom, soaked it with icy cold water, and slapped it on the welts.

"Hold that on there firmly, that should help with the pain." Tony did a double take, looking at Thor's injured arm again: It was swollen to twice the size of the right arm, and his face was visibly flushed. 

"Um, Thor… other than the pain from the stings, how do you feel?"

"All right I think. Overwarm from exertion I suppose. But… my tongue isn't functioning properly… and my mouth seems to be… tingling? A very interesting sensation. Also extremely itchy." He lifted his shirt to reveal hives all over His torso, which he began to scratch furiously. His words indeed were slow and slurred, proving his point.

"Jesus freaking Christ, you're having a goddamn allergic reaction. Okay, okay okay, we're not panicking…. JARVIS, what do we do?"

"In cases of allergic reaction, an injection of epinephrine is necessary to reduce the risk of anaphylaxis. Ms. Potts has epinephrine auto-injectors in all the first aid kits. The nearest one is in the bathroom behind you.

Tony sped to the kit and dumped it on the floor. Two packs of two Epi-pens rolled out. Tony grabbed one, barking out to JARVIS to tell him how to use it. Thor was silent, terror in his eyes, his breathing ragged. 

JARVIS calmly but quickly walked Tony through the injection. Thor grunted in pain as the needle pierced his thigh, taking several deep breaths. The two stood around and waited. Thor didn't seem to get any better, but he didn't get worse either. 

"Is something supposed to happen? What do we do now? Should I give him another shot? Do you feel any different Thor?"

"I can feel my tongue again. But my mouth still feels… unpleasantly alive."

"J, what do I do here?"

"It is strongly recommended to seek medical care after an allergic reaction. If necessary another epinephrine injection can be administered after 15 minutes has elapsed."

"Well hell. It's been about that long. If one is good, two is better right? I don't even know how your Asgard body is going to process these drugs. But it can't make it any worse, right?"

Another shot in the other leg. Another grunt from the poor demigod. More waiting. After a while, the high color began to fade from Thor's cheeks, and he announced his mouth felt normal again. The hives and swollen arm were unchanged. When Tony voiced his concern about this, JARVIS informed them hives usually last about 24 hours.

Tony heaved a deep sigh, collapsing into a chair. "Well that was exciting, huh? Looks like you won't die today after all. What do you think? Should we take you to the hospital now and let them deal with you?"

Thor fervently protested. "Midgardian healers would do nothing for me. I always tend to my own wounds. I am better off here."

"Yeah, I don't relish the thought of hauling you of all people into a hospital in Malibu. We'd be there until tomorrow. We'll just let the hives run their course I guess. Do they itch a lot?"  
"Like the devil," groaned the poor god, scratching feverishly."

~~~~~~~~~~

The two bummed around the mansion for the rest of the day. Thor, understandably, did not feel up to much else, and Tony was too wired to focus on anything. But Tony had his hands full trying to keep Thor from giving himself a skin infection from his violent scratching. The swelling in his left arm had gone down a bit but he still couldn't bend it well. JARVIS also informed them the god was running a low-grade fever as a secondary reaction. Still, Thor continued to refuse a trip to the hospital.

Eight pm found them in the den. Tony was flipping through TV channels idly. Thor sat on the couch, head in his hands. Tony glanced over at the miserable god. He had been motionless for some time. "Thor? How are you holding up?"

The demigod lifted his head, pale and shaky. "I'm bone weary, and my head aches, and I itch like the devil. Still, I suppose there are worse things, though I can't think of any right now." He let his head drop again with a sigh. 

Tony sighed too. "Maybe we should've gone to the hospital after all. You look like shit. You also probably need more calamine. Here, take your shirt off."

Thor meekly did as instructed. Tony came to sit beside him, tube of lotion at the ready. He gently began to rub it on Thor's back and arms, being careful of the injured one. Thor sighed in relief.

"Thank you, Stark," he said weakly.

"Don't mention it. Seriously. Ever. This lasts no longer than 24 hours remember."

"What lasts 24 hours exactly?"

Both men jumped up to find Pepper, Natasha and Bruce standing in the doorway. Natasha looked concerned, Bruce looked amused, and Pepper just looked confused. 

Thor took a shaky step toward them, and Tony reflexively caught his arm to steady him. The onlookers expressions deepened.

"Greetings, friends. It's a pleasure to see you," Thor rumbled weakly.

"Thor? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"All is all, Lady Nat. I've had a run-in with some devilish insects and mild affliction today, but I am healing now, thanks to Tony. Forgive me for being unsteady on my feet." He weakly sat back down. Tony cleared his throat awkwardly as everyone stared at him.

"Yeah, so we discovered today that that the God of Thunder here is allergic to bee stings. He got stung outside, and his arm swelled up and his mouth went numb, and he broke out in hives so I gave him two EpiPens. Oh, not to mention he destroyed the patio doors upstairs trying to escape the bees. There's glass all over the floor, I wouldn't recommend going up there. So, you know, very uneventful day. You guys didn't miss a thing."

"Oh my god, Thor!" Natasha and Pepper were at his side in a moment, fussing over him, exclaiming over his fever, and insisting he go to the hospital immediately. He gently but firmly declined, insisting he had the finest care he could've asked for right here.

"Stark saved my life, so says the man in the walls. I am in his debt."

Bruce looked at Tony, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just don't make it a habit. One doctor on this team is more than enough, and I'm definitely not volunteering for that job ever again. "


End file.
